Ever and a Day
by tears fall down
Summary: Drowning himself in all of the mistakes of his past, Percy looks to Oliver for help.


Ever and a Day 

Author: tears fall down 

Rating: PG-13 

Genre: Angst/Romance 

Summary: Drowning himself in all of the mistakes of his past, Percy looks to Oliver for help. 

Pairings: Oliver/Percy 

Warning: Thar be OotP spoilers. I'd warn you of the slash, but I won't apologise for that, and neither will I warn you. I've already told you the ships, isn't that enough? Don't go crying to me if you haven't read OotP and you hate slash, savvy? 

Disclaimer: Obviously Oliver and Percy aren't mine- I'm not freaking JK Rowling. This story is based on the song of the same title by AFI, which is featured in here. So, all right then? 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Percy Weasley lay on his bed. His usual tidy room was a complete mess, ripped papers through around, a mass of clothes and robes scattered about, and there was a razor on the ground. The bed in which Percy occupied was a swirling disarray of the man's lithe legs and blankets. Long curtains were drawn, keeping the room dark. Percy liked it dark. His life was growing darker and darker. 

His door was shut, blocking him from the rest of London and his flat. When Percy moved out of the Burrow, he didn't have enough money to live alone, so Oliver, a school friend of Percy's, offered to take Percy up as a roommate. In actuality, the two had barely seen each other in the last year. Percy was too busy at the Ministry, and Oliver (who was a reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United) had started training for the next Quidditch season. 

When it was revealed that Harry Potter wasn't lying about Lord Voldemort's return, and the Ministry was broken into, Percy felt horrible. He actually told his brother to stay away from Potter- who was his brother's best friend- and had gotten into many heated fights with his family, who currently wasn't talking to him. The Ministry hadn't been doing too well after they confirmed Voldemort's return, and Percy was forced into taking a vacation. 

Deciding to take the plunge, he decided to visit the Burrow, and apologise to his parents. His mother was angry, but had open arms, whereas his father and siblings saw things a bit differently. Oliver had left that week, because the Quidditch season started, leaving Percy with the only person he didn't want to be with- himself. 

So, for the past three days, Percy had gotten up very rarely, but just lay in his bed. All he wanted to do was to sleep- and hopefully not wake up. That Wednesday, he became disillusioned and contemplated suicide. Picking up a razor, he gingerly cut his arm. It stung at first, but the blood warmed his arm, sliding down in a serpentine manner. Feeling sickened- by both the blood and by his own pathetic resort- he went back to sleep. 

_ Lie in comfort of sweet calamity with nothing left to lose.  
Lie in the darkness, I'm slowly drowned to sleep _

When he awoke, Percy had a craving for alcohol. He had never indulged in drinking what he always regarded as "poison" but at the time, poison seemed like something Percy would consider drinking. Stumbling out of his bed, his legs felt wobbly. Slowly walking out of his room and into the corridor, the sunlight from the open windows stung his eyes. Entering the kitchen, Percy rummaged around for some of Oliver's liquor, but none could be found. This was probably because Percy's glasses were also nowhere to be found. Defeated, Percy walked back into his room and continued to sleep. 

Thursday was just as uneventful as the rest of the week (excluding the day before). Percy started counting all the reasons why he hated his life, all the things he missed about his family, all the reasons why he hated Fudge, and all the reasons why he was alone. That day, Percy learned he was a complete and utter twit. 

On Friday, Percy ventured out of the flat. It was sunny and crowded outside. Although there must have been dozens of people who passed him, as he sat on the steps that lead up to the door of his apartment, he felt as though every single person was staring at him. After about ten minutes, he climbed back up and fell into his bed. 

++++++++++++++++ 

Oliver Wood inserted his key into the door of his flat and turned it. Stepping in, he put down his suitcase and walked down the hallway. 

"Percy, I'm home!" He paused. "Are you?" Since he received no answer, he shrugged and walked into Percy's room to check. 

The room was dark, but when the door was opened, a bit of light entered with the tall man who was walking in. Oliver looked around, searching for his red headed friend, but all he saw was a total mess. For a brief moment, Oliver pondered whether he was in the right house, because this couldn't be Percy's room. "Percy?" he called again. In the bed directly in front of him, a svelte figure moved a mess of legs and blankets and propped his head up. 

"Oh, you're home… Oliver," Percy moaned. 

"Yes, yes, I am. Enjoying your break?" Oliver asked, sitting on the bed. Percy just groaned in response. "I hope you don't mind, but have you even been out of bed this past week?" 

"Yes!" Percy snapped defensively. "Well, only a bit." 

"Ah," Oliver responded, nodding. "Are you feeling okay?" 

"Physically, emotionally or mentally?" Percy smirked. 

_Nothing left to lose.  
Three tears I've saved for you._

"Er," Oliver stared inquisitively. 

"I've been horrible, Ol, okay? Now, stop worrying about me or whatever it is you're doing and go to whatever it is professional Quidditch players do, okay?" Percy grimaced. 

"That sounded a bit mean," Oliver looked slightly hurt. 

"It was supposed to be. Now, go!" 

Oliver sighed and got off Percy's bed and started to walk out. He stopped, however, when a glinting piece of metal shone a few centimetres away. "Percy," he asked, picking up the razor off the ground. "What were you doing with this?" 

_I'd retrace the steps that lead me here but nothing lives behind me.  
So I lie in this field bathed in the light that loves me,_

Percy gapped, and made a noise that was supposed to be words. "Don't tell me you were shaving," Oliver started. "Because I can see your stubble from over here." Moving over to Percy, Oliver sat on the bed, very close to his friend, and lifted his arm out from under the blanket. There were a few scrapes, a deep cut and stains from the blood that had leaked out. 

"Percy," Oliver began. "You haven't showered all week, have you?" 

"I did…" 

"Well, when did you do this?" Oliver was grasping Percy's arm. 

"Wednesday, I think," Percy couldn't look Oliver in the eyes. 

"Perce, you could have seriously hurt yourself! What were you thinking?" Oliver raised his voice slightly, but his anger was fuelled by concern. "Did you tell anyone about this? I know work's been hard for you, and your family, but Perce, cutting yourself? You look like you've barely been out of bed… What were you trying to do?" 

"Maybe… Maybe I wanted to hurt myself," Percy whispered. 

The two men were silent for many minutes as Oliver held onto Percy's arm, contemplating what to say next. "Is it over?" Oliver whispered back. 

"I still feel…" Percy's voice broke. "What do I have to live for? Turns out what I've spent my whole life working for are a sham, and the only people who have always loved me… hate me. What is it that I have?" 

"Perce," Oliver rubbed the said boy's arm. "You have so many things wrong. The Ministry made a few mistakes; you had nothing to do with it. Your family doesn't hate you, in fact, they love you. You just hurt them and they need time to heal. And I love you." 

"Oliver," Percy fell onto Oliver's chest and began to cry. "What if they never forgive me?" 

"Just give them time, Percy, just give them time," Percy's tears fell freely from his eyes and Oliver began to hold him gently. "Shhh… Let it out, Percy. I'm here, it's okay." 

_Nothing left to lose.  
Three tears I've saved for you._

A few minutes later, when the tears slowed, Percy looked up at Oliver. "What do you mean, 'you love me'? I mean, how do you..?" 

"Well," Oliver was absentmindedly running his hands through Percy's red hair. "How do you want me to mean it?" 

Percy thought for a moment. His head was swirling, and he started picturing Oliver as his. Coming home from practises, kissing Percy and the two would eat dinner and sit by the fire and read or talk and cuddle… Shaking his head, he tried to make these thoughts go away. He was almost for certain that Oliver meant he loved him as a friend. After all, Oliver was his only and best friend. But then, Oliver was in Percy's bed, supporting his head with his chest. Yet, it's only because Percy was crying. Why was it that Oliver cared? Because he was Percy's friend, right? Or was it that Oliver did love Percy in a non-platonic way… 

To say the least, he was a little bit confused as to what Oliver meant. Picking this up, Oliver continued, "I could love you like a friend. Like a brother… or like a lover. However you want me to, I will." 

Blinking, Percy sighed. "Er, I don't know," he replied slowly. "It's up to you." 

"No, it's up to you," Oliver protested quietly. "Because I could really go either way… I'd prefer the latter but I'm there for you any way you want me to be." 

Percy's ears were reddening and he tried to reply but choked on his words. Finding out a beautiful Quidditch player was in love with you is shocking, especially if you just woke up and started crying into his sweater. 

_Will you be my beloved?  
Will you help me to get through?_

The red head looked up at Oliver, and he larger boy grinned. Kissing Percy softly, Oliver shifted a little bit. Sliding his arm up, Percy rested his hand on Oliver's shoulder, and Oliver swung his legs onto the bed. 

"You really need to clean up in here," Oliver laughed. 

"Shh… Later," Percy yawned. 

"Did my Percy Weasley just start to procrastinate? On cleaning? Oh, Merlin! Someone contact the Daily Prophet!" Percy hit Oliver softly, as he continued talking about the outrage of Percy starting to be everything he used to be against: lazy, messy, human. 

"Oliver Wood's gay, alert the Daily Prophet?" Percy Weasley raised his eyebrow. 

"You see, it's funnier when I do it. Because you always do everything write away, and you always clean. Whereas, I always kiss boys, so…" Oliver winked. 

"Hmm… I didn't know about that," Percy looked up, curiously. 

"No one does, because I don't. Although," he kissed Percy's chastely. "I wouldn't mind doing it more often with you. 

"Doing what, exactly?" Percy asked, pointedly. 

"Kissing boys, where have you been?" 

"Well, kissing boy." 

"Yes," Oliver kissed Percy's forehead. "Just you. Where are your glasses? I just noticed you aren't wearing them." 

"Oh, I don't know," Percy looked around briefly. "I'll look for them later." 

"Oh, all right," Oliver bit his lip. "But I thought you couldn't see without your glasses." 

"Well, not too well. But I can see you, isn't that really all that matters now?" 

_Will you be my destruction?  
Will you help me to be through?_


End file.
